Not In My Favor
by vero-rosario
Summary: Olevia Planar is picked to go into the 71st annual Hunger Games on her last year of elegibilty. Positive she won't make it out, she befriends her fellow tribute, Phillip Dex. Both become close, maybe too close. Let's see what happens once the Games begin.
1. Chapter 1

"Olevia Planar,"

Please let me be hearing things. I must be hearing things. That strange lady on stage did not just pull my name from the giant fish bowls. My name did not get called out. I was not reaped. No. I'm just going crazy. I'm eighteen for crying out loud! My last year! All I needed was this one more year and I was home free! This isn't happening. This an elaborate daydream and any second I'll wake up and some other unlucky girl's name will be called.

"Olevia Planar?"

My hand goes to my throat and my heart stops. There are hisses and sympathetic looks from all around me, aimed at me. I'm not going crazy. I didn't hear wrong. My name was drawn from the giant fish bowl. My name was called out into the microphone. People start shoving me toward the stage, I even try to resist, but I know if I don't go willingly, Peacekeepers will step in. So I shove back a little, flatten out the lime green dress my mother almost didn't all me to wear, and walk up to the stage. But the whole time, my legs at shaking and I might burst into tears.

I'm going into the arena.

I am officially a tribute in the annual Hunger Games.

I'm going to die.

"Hello, Olevia," greets the strange lady. She trots over to me, grabs my hand and pats it with her other hand. I think shes' trying to be reassuring, but it's just making me want to snatch it back. She whips me around toward the vast sea of people looking at me. "Let's give Olevia a round of applause everyone! The girl tribute from District Three! I'm sure she'll do us proud,"

And there's a weak round of claps and she finally lets go of me. So I step back, fold my arms and hunch my shoulders. My gaze drops to the ground, making my glasses slide down my nose, because I'm practically sobbing and everyone probably knows it. I don't bother wishing for a volunteer. Who's crazy enough to willingly go in the arena? We are not District One, Two or Four. In those districts, tributes train, illegally, for the Games and then at the reaping, basically fight with each for who is going in that year. I think they're crazy, but typically they win. _Cheaters_.

I try to calm myself enough to listen out for the boy tribute. I might be able to bear this a little better as long as I don't hear either of two names. Just not those two names. Anyone but them. "And the boy tribute is …" The lady unfolds the paper and smiles like she's not announcing another dead child. "Phillip Dex! Come on up, Phillip,"

The corners of my mouth turn up in relief. It's not them. They're safe. At least one is, permanently. I still have two to worry about after this. No- no I don't. I'm sure I'll be dead the first day in that arena. I won't be worrying about much of anything when I come back in a wooden box. I look about to my male counterpart and don't recognize him. He must go to the regular school. I go to the special school for children who seem to have a knack for technological studies. He's younger than I, maybe by two years, so he's my siblings' age. Maybe he even knows them.

"Why don't we have a round for Phillip? He will do our district proud."

And there's a slightly bigger applause for him than me, probably because he's popular. But I don't care. Popularity back home does nothing for you in the arena. He comes to stand next to me, and the mayor goes forward to give a speech. She's reading off the Treaty of Treason, explaining why we hold these annual Hunger Games, but I'm sure more than half of the crowd could recite it by heart. I had to once for an assignment.

"Why don't you two shake hands?" she suggests after finishing her speech. Both staring into the other's blue eyes- while mine are more icy, his are more turquoise, clashing perfectly with his ginger hair- and reach out to grab hands. Stiffly, we shake then drop it, not wanting to be in this position. We're both thinking the same thing. We both know we're going to die. "May the odds be ever in your favor, young tributes."

They are most certainly not in my favor.

Nor will they ever be, I'm sure.

Immediately after the anthem is played, we're ushered into the Justice Building. We're lead down the same hallway but go into rooms directly across from the other. For the next allotted hour, we say our goodbyes. My family is first.

"Liv," calls my sister. Luce tosses the door open. Her face is red and puffy, and the top of her shirt is damp. "I can't believe it, Liv!" She runs across the room and throws herself at me. Then she promptly sobs into my neck as everyone else comes in. They all look the same. Inky black hair, pale skin, sad eyes – I have my father's blue, and my siblings have my mother's gray.

"Why _my_ baby?" my mother shrieks, clinging to my father. "I—I can't believe my little girl has to—has to—" And she can't even finish her sentence, sobbing into my father's shoulder.

"Someone's name was going to get called," I say to her and my sister. "Just be happy Luce and Chip weren't chosen. It's just me."

"_Just_ you?" my mother gasps. "Do you think you're not important to us?"

"Every family is sad over their child going into this. I'm no more special than any of them."

Luce pulls away suddenly. "I'm going to volunteer! You can't go in, Liv! You can't!"

I yank her back. "Even if it is too late, there's no way I'd _ever_ let you do that."

"You can't die," she declares loudly. "Promise me you'll live! Promise me!"

I want to tell her it's going to be okay, I want to promise I'll live. I really do, but I can't force myself to do it. So I start I'm sobbing with my sister, our mother joins us, and our father rubs her back, trying to choke back tears himself. Only Chip, Luce's fraternal twin, stands alone in the background, no tears coming from his eyes. He's just standing there, breathing deeply.

After blubbering how much we love each other, how we can't believe this is happening, their time comes to an end. Peacekeepers will be in at any moment to take them out. My father literally has to drag Luce off of me. She's clinging, screaming for me to promise her to try, but I don't. Why bother? We all know I'm not making it out of there alive.

I'm scrubbing my eyes when I finally address my brother. "Chip?" He hums in response. "Why won't you just … _say something_? Please. I'd like a goodbye."

"No," he growls, head ducked enough that his eyes are covered.

"You're my little brother and I'm going to die! I think I deserve at least a hug from you!"

Instead of answering, he tosses something at me. "You're allowed one keepsake."

I rub the fabric between my fingers. "My favorite scarf?" It's my only scarf really, but I love it dearly. Maybe it's a childish reason, but it's my favorite are the colors. Its stripes are the colors of the rainbow, sticking out amongst the drab and dull we're usually forced to wear.

"You love bright colors, so I thought you might want this."

"Thank you." I toss it around my neck, give him a teary grin, and hold out my arms. "But I still want a goodbye, Chip."

"No," he deadpans.

"Chip," Luce whines, fighting our father's hold. "She's our sister! She's going—"

"Shut up, Luce I know." He sighs. "If I say goodbye … it becomes real. I know she'll try, but those other tributes, they'll be trying even harder to survive, get to their families …" He looks over at me and that's when I see the tears. "To kill you."

The Peacekeepers come in the next second and take them away from me forever.

There's only half an hour left at this point. I only have one more goodbye. But honestly, I almost wish he wouldn't come. I wish he'd given up on me the second my name was called.

Preparing myself for his entrance, I sit down on a chair, twiddling my thumbs, determinedly staring into my lap. "You can do this," I hiss to myself. "No tears. Not a single one, Liv." Though I'm sure I've cried myself dry. "If he comes, no crying. Just hold him close. Don't ruin it mindless blubbering. You know he'll be strong when, or if, he comes. You can't cry in front of him. No, no, no."

"Liv."

I take a deep breath then look up to see him. Tears are streaming from his silver-gray eyes, his hands are grasping the door frame so desperately his knuckles are white, and he looks like he's struggling to breathe normally. All in all, he's a mess. And I'm torn between being heart broken at the sight and overjoyed that he's here.

"Liv," he repeats, sounding like a lost little child.

The only thing I can think to say now is, "I'm so sorry, Dell."

He's baffled. "What for?"

"Because," I whimper. To hide, I hug my legs and bury my face in my knees. "My name. It was called. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm eighteen. This was my last year in the lottery, but I still got my name called. I'm sorry, Dell, I'm sorry."

He's standing over me now, I can feel it. "Do you think this is _your_ fault? Do you think you could've _prevented_ this?"

"I don't know," I croak.

I hear him drop to his knees. "Liv, are you crazy? None of this was your fault. We couldn't have stopped it from happening? You know that."

One, two, three deep breaths. "I do." Another. "But I don't know what else to say."

Unexpectedly, two arms wrap around me, encasing me in a cocoon of warmth and love, a hand gently cradling the back of my head. My vision blurs. My breaths are choppy. My throat constricts. Without hesitating, I throw my arms around him and now we're both on our knees. So I was wrong. I can still produce tears. A lot of them. I can already feel his shirt dampening. For precaution, I bite down on my lip to suppress sobs, but that doesn't stop my body jerking with each one that wants to break out.

"You don't have to say anything. _Don't_ say anything."

"Dell," I rasp. "This is the last time we'll _ever_—"

"Don't you dare say that, Liv," he snaps. Dell holds me closer. "You're going to make it out. I know you will."

I attempt to shove him away, but his grip on me only tightens. "No, I'm won't! We both know that," I avoid making eye contact. "I'm not … I'm not strong enough to survive. I'll probably be one of the first to die like almost everyone else from our district."

"Shut up! Don't say that," he begs. "You're not like everyone else."

I laugh bitterly. "Oh please. You know me well enough to know I'll be lucky if I don't trip and blow up in the first minute."

"_Shut up_," He yanks away and shakes me hard once. "Try to live! Promise me. Try."

My head drops. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Dell challenges.

Deep breath, in and out. "Both."

"Please, for me," he begs, squeezing my shoulders. "If not for me, your family; your parents, Luce, and Chip! Please, anything to bring you back! I have to see you again! I can't lose you! Especially not this way! Fight, damnit! Fight! Please,"

"Don't you see, Dell? I don't stand a chance out there. But … you _will_ see me again." His body relaxes just slightly. A ghost of a smile spread across his mouth. I run a hand through his hair. "_I_ just won't see _you_ again."

"But how—?"

I cut him off. "You don't see much of anything when you're in a wooden box, Dell."

Dell starts stammering – which is something he never, ever does – trying to think of a way out of this. He's so very smart, the smartest person I know, that I've been lucky enough to know, but even he can't get us out of this quandary and he knows it. "Then … then—then at least lie to me. I know you're a horrible liar, but do it. Tell me you're going to _try_. Tell me you're going to fight for your life. I just need _something_ to hold onto while people are being slaughtered. While I'm watching _you_ be—"

"Fine," I concede. "If it'll make you feel better."

"It will. Just do it."

"Okay." With a sudden tenderness, I hold his face in my hands, my gaze flickering between his eyes. I let out another huff. "I will _try_to survive. I will _try_ with every fiber of my being to come back to my family, to my friends, and most importantly _you_. Because I love you. I will come back from the Hunger Games. I _will_ _win_. Because I love you, Dell. So, so much. And don't you ever forget that." And because it's the only thing I can give him wholeheartedly, I kiss him hard on the lips.

Before I can truly enjoy it though, Dell He kisses me on each cheek, my chin, the tip of my nose, my forehead, temples, he removes my glasses to peck my eyelids, my hair line – everywhere! Dell even raises my hands close to our faces and kisses the back of each. This is not what I want. I catch his lips with mine and resist him trying to pull away. My hands grab him by the collar of his shirt, refusing to let him escape. He finally gets the hint, but at the same pointing time, I can taste the salt of our tears.

Damnit, I'm dying in a week, I love him, I want to kiss!

After a few minutes, our waterworks stop, and we're just holding each other. This moment should never end. get so lost in the kiss though, I forget about resisting his resistance until he's already pried us apart. Instead of making the rounds of small kisses all over, he purrs one line to me in my ear. "Marry me."

My blood goes cold. "What?"

"Marry me, Liv," he says again. "I love you, Olevia Planar! And you love me! That's all it takes! I mean, we're already in the Justice Building! All we have to do is get the damn paper signed and we're done! You'll be my wife and I'll be your husband! It won't even take five minutes and we still have more than ten left. Why shouldn't we?"

"Because I'm a dead girl," I exclaim. I stand up and take five steps away. "Are you stupid? We'll be married for less a week! Most of that time you'll be watching me die on live television! I won't marry you! I love you! You know that! I love you, Dell Alden! But I will not let you loose your _wife_ in a matter of days! I'm not going to make you a widow at eighteen."

The hurt in his eyes is unbearable. "Don't you _want_ to marry me?"

How can he think to ask that? "Yes, of course, but—"

"All I want is you, Liv. Who cares about me?"

"Well, you can't and won't have me. Only a madman would marry a girl practically on her deathbed. And then he goes crazy from losing her. Just forget about me. Act like I never existed. I was never here. We never met."

"Like I can do that. I could never forget you."

I should've expected that answer. I rub my temples. "There's no way I'm marrying you right now, okay? I'm sorry, Dell. You have no idea how happy it'd make me, but no."

"Right now?" he repeats slowly, cocking an eyebrow.

I nod. "There's no way I'll do it."

"Will you marry me when you come home?"

I groan. "No, Dell, I won't—" My eye catches his. And the hurt in those silver orbs, the tear track running down his cheeks gag the words in my throat. "Fine." Even though he wants me to lie, this isn't a lie. Not completely.

Dell picks up on that fact. "Really?"

"Yes," I sigh. "When I come home, I will marry you. The very _second_ I step off the train platform. Have the papers ready by then. I'll sign them on camera if you want. So everyone will know how much I love you. All of Panem will witness it." By the end of it, I wish it were the whole truth. I pull him in for another kiss, sealing the fake deal. "I love you and I want to marry you. I really do."

He presses his lips to my forehead. "Thank you."

I gesture to the chair I was seated in earlier and he sits down first, pulling me into his lap. I tuck my legs into my chest, lay my head on his shoulder and he lays his on mine. Dell's holding me with one arm and playing with one of my hands with his other hand. He's also crooning on about our wedding; our wedding that will never happen. "I think we should have a formal ceremony later on," he muses. "Don't you think? You'll wear a _beautiful_ white dress. The flowers we'll use will be in every color imaginable. Our families will be there …" I close my eyes, picturing it all in my head. I can't help but smile. And cry some more.

But then my eyes flash open, I look up at him, and cover a gasp with my hand. "Dell?"

"What?" he asks, panicked. "What is it, Liv? What's wrong?"

"I'm … _engaged_," I say gravely.

He beams down at me. "What a coincidence, so am I." And he lifts my chin up to peck my nose, then forehead before letting go. "You won't be coming home soon enough," he chuckles lightly.

"I'll be home soon. Promise." Just not the way he wants.

To my surprise, Dell roughly grabs my chin again and forces his lips onto mine. It feels more urgent than the last and that's when I see the time. Any second now, I'll be leaving his side forever.

"Miss Planar, Mr. Dex," says our escort from the hallway. "It's time to go." Dell and I both get up and walk to the door hand in hand. She lays a hand on my shoulder and Phillip's, who's with a girl. "I'm sorry. But it's time to go now."

I kiss him again. "I love you, Dell." Another kiss. "Tell my family I love them for me. Tell your sisters." Another kiss. "I love you. I'll miss you."

"You'll be back in no time,"

I don't think I've changed my mind on trying to survive, but I nod. False hope is all I can give him. When Dell and Phillip's visitor are walking away from us, I look over at the young boy. The way he's looking after her, it's obvious. That girl to him is what Dell is to me. But Phillip looks on the verge of tears, so I reach out and grab his hand. He's stunned by the gesture, but squeezes back and attempts a smile, but it turns into a frown and he's pulling me toward him.

"I don't want to die," he cries into my neck.

Is this happening? "I know. Phillip, I'm sorry."

"I don't want to go! I'll die out there! This isn't fair! Why do we have to die for something we had nothing to do with? My parents didn't fight in the Rebellion! Neither did my grandparents! Why should I do this? And how is my death so entertaining to those people in the Capitol? How would they like it if their friends or family were in there? It's just not right!"

I awkwardly muss his hair. "I know. They're evil." I pinch his chin. "But wipe your eyes. We'll be on camera and you can't be weeping like a baby on live television. Even if we both know we're not coming out alive, let's fake it til we make. Give _her_—"

"Celera," he states firmly. "That's her name."

Bobbing my head, I continue. "Okay, _Celera_. At least give Celera something respectable to look at on TV."

"Something respectable," he parrots. Phillip nods then uses the sleeve of his dress shirt to clean the tears and snot.

With my thumb, I swipe the last of the tears. "Better. Now you and me, we're going to be allies. Keep each other sane until we absolutely have to split up. Promise?"

He nods again. "Okay."

"Good."

And I let go of him and we're lead by several Peacekeepers to the train that'll take us to the Capitol. Cameras flash in every direction and reporters try to shove microphones in our faces, but Phillip and I don't speak to anyone. We don't even look at each other. I'm yanking hard on my scarf, as if to choke myself out of nerves. We get through the sea of news teams and step into the train for our first – and last – ride ever.


	2. Chapter 2

"So... what do we do now?"

Phillip and I stand just behind the doorway of the train, unsure what to do next. We still hear the massive crowds of reporters right behind us but now we've got at least six inches of metal and between us. I shrug, "I don't know. I've never done this before." And for some random reason, that makes us burst out laughing. I'm giggling so hard, I need to grip his shoulder for support. Pretty soon, my sides hurt and I have to stop myself. I let go and hold up my hands. "Okay, okay. We had a much needed laugh. We need to be more serious though. Our lives are at stake here."

He wipes his eyes of happy tears from our laughter, and nods. "I'm still totally terrified, but it feels good to do that after what I've just been through, you know?"

"Oh, I know what you're saying."

"Mr. Dex. Miss Planar," says the strange lady, her heels clopping on the floor as she approaches us. "I'll show you to your chambers. Feel free do do anything you please. There is room service, but I don't recommend eating too much food. We are eating lunch in exactly two hours. Is that clear?" We nod. "Good then. Come, come, follow me." And she's off.

As we walk behind her, I lean close to my fellow tribute and whisper, "Hey, what's her name? I know I should know it since this is my sixth reaping, but I don't and I feel I should learn it. I feel bad that I don't. It's so rude."

"Her name's Dimitria Lee."

"Oh." I look at our guide and decide the name does fit her. I guess I never bothered trying to figure out her name until now. Dimitria suits the pale woman with bleach blond, nearly green hair, wearing a pink pant suit. I notice her hair is in a bun with pencils and pens protruding from it, and her shoes are freakishly tall. They're six inches. Without them, she'd be our height. How can she walk in those things? And so fast.

We enter a different car and stop at a door. "This is your chamber for the short ride Mr. Dex. As I said, feel free to do anything as you please." And we leave Phillip to his room. It's not far from my chambers. She reiterates doing as I please and leaves me to do whatever.

"Wow." I say, looking around the place. It's so... fancy in here. I walk over to the bed and run a hand over the cushy fabric; I walk into the private bathroom and marvel at the size of the bathtub; I rummage through some of the drawers and admire the clothes. All simply amazing. I guess they like sending off the dead in style. I kick off my shoes and take a running start before leaping into the bed. I don't like the dress I'm wearing, but am so wrapped in comfort, I drift off to sleep in mere minutes.

"Olevia. _Olevia_," someone whispers. I roll around, realizing that I had somehow managed to get under the covers of the bed. "Olevia. It's lunch time. You're already late. It's either I wake you up or Dimitria will come here herself."

With that, I snap up to see Phillip standing at the edge of my bed. He's not in his dress pants or shirt. He's in a casual outfit, probably from his drawers in his room. I sigh heavily, yawn and stretch before sliding out of the comfort of my bed. Groggily, I rub my eyes and start toward the door when I stop and look back at Phillip still by my bed. "Um, is something wrong? I thought you said I was late already." He looks uncomfortable now, blushing a red that tries to copy his hair. I sigh again. "Do you need to... talk about something?" He still looks uneasy. I go over and grab his hand again, "We can talk later. Let's just hurry before Dimitria comes for the both of us." He nods and smiles, and thankfully this time he doesn't burst into tears. Then he pulls me out the room and down the hall to a dining car.

"Got her. She fell asleep," Phillip informs the group in there. Along with Dimitria are a man and woman with the same black hair as I are sitting at the table, and there are a handful of servants walking around silently. Still holding my hand, Phillip leads me to a chair and sets me there, taking the seat next to me. Then he gestures to the man and woman across from us. "Olevia, this is Beetee and Wiress: our mentors."

"Oh." I now recognize them from the stage. They sat quietly by in the background as we were reaped. "Hi. Nice to meet you." I wave politely and grin minimally. They smile back. I look at Phillip and he actually looks more comfortable. "Do you know them?" I ask. But then he looks uncomfortable again. I'm feeling confused.

The woman, Wiress, speaks. "You see, we've known him for years because he and my niece..." But then she cuts off like she hadn't been talking to me.

Beetee picks it up for her, "Are infatuated. Her niece, Celera has a, um, relationship with Phillip here, so we've met face to face many times before today."

I nod, comprehending everything. Everything said, and left unsaid, but I got it all loud and clear. They will want him to come home over me. Since he's in love with her niece, of course they want to keep it all in the family. So even if he doesn't try to survive, they'll still be trying to do it for him, for Celera. Leaving me out in the cold as an afterthought. As a burden to be endured. I keep my face blank and nod.

"I wish I could've met her. I hope Dell and Celera become friends."

But then I'm hit with a jealous spike. What a way to bond, watching your true loves fighting to the death. They'll be married not long after Phillip and I die, no doubt, driven together by their losses. But maybe that is what I want. It is perfect. They both lose their loves in the same way, so they'll always understand the other's pain. It's almost ideal that they end up together.

But I still love him and don't even want to picture him with anyone else.

I shake the feeling and force myself to eat some of the food. Our district isn't poor, so no one really struggles to eat. Some have a little more than they absolutely need and some have just enough to fill themselves, but nothing less than that. I guess I'd consider my family the kind to have just enough. But the food here is much better. I see samples of pudding in every color which obviously I am most tempted to try. And I eat a few plain bread rolls. I sip on a carbonated purple drink that I'm told tastes like grape, but I don't believe them. Grapes taste nothing like this.

We arrive at the Capitol a few hours after the meal. It was such a short ride, I imagined a day long trip, but when we stepped off the train, it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Huge tall buildings, bright lights every where, people walking around talking in their trilling Capitol accent. I would have stared long of some Peacekeepers weren't shoving me along into the building. This is the Remake Center. This is where we'll spend the day preparing for the opening chariot rides around the huge City Circle. It kicks off the events in the Capitol.

"Dimitria, darling!"

"Anara, my dear!"

A woman with bright purple hair in a sloppy bun and a short red dress comes skipping over to us. I thought she was going to hug her, but they stop inches from one another and kiss each other on each cheek.

"It's been too long since we've seen one another, darling! Which of these kids is my charge!"

"This one!" And she gestures to me. "This is Olevia. Olevia, this is your stylist, Anara. Her and her team will be making you look good for the Games."

Anara comes over and slaps her hands on my shoulders. "Let me get a good look at you. Stay still." And I freeze in place. She walks a circle around me, scratching her chin and humming like she made a discovery. I feel my cheeks flush with color. "I like this one. She's got something I can work with. Something up top and in the bottom." Then she pats me on the butt. I let out a small yelp. She just cackles. "I love the clothes choice too. Bright, very bright. And then your eyes are just to die for. Maybe I'll get mine dyed that shade one day." Dye her eyes? "Well, time to get ready for your big reveal." And she pulls me away from the group.

I thought I kept myself groomed rather well all my life. Apparently not. Anara leaves me with her team to do my base work. They wash me, wax me, comb my hair, bleach my teeth, and so many other painful things for who knows how long. The whole time they chatter away about nonsense I couldn't care less about. But I payed enough attention to their names. Vera, Rosa, and Azul. Vera has a braid of green hair. Rosa has bobbed pink hair. And Azul has blue hair, in the same cropped style Dell has. While they aren't rude to me, I don't think I'll ever truly like them because what they're preparing me for. When they're through, they leave me alone in the massive bathroom with only a towel to cover myself. I take this time to put on my glasses and check to make sure I'm still me. And I am. The girl in the mirror is in fact me. I have my fair, slightly tan skin, my short inky black hair though it looks longer wet, and my icy blue eyes.

"Olevia!" sings Anara from out of no where. I let out another yelp, nearly losing the grip of my towel. She skips over to me and grabs my chin to look at me. "Oh yes, I can really have fun with you. Especially since your clean now." Then she frowns, "Wait, I still have a problem." She removes her hand and reaches for my glasses. Then she backs up an just snaps them in half.

This infuriates me. "Hey! You can't do that! Are you trying to give me a disadvantage? I need those to see! I've seen tons of other tributes where glasses into the arena!"

She cackles again, "Oh, darling! I can't have you wearing those around with me as your stylist! Not with the image I plan on giving you!"

"What image?"

"Stop squinting already! And tilt your head back!" I don't know why I listened to her, but the moment I look up, she's trying to get my eyes open even further. Then suddenly, some liquid is dropped in. And as I'm trying to shake my face away from her, she does it with my other eye. I'm blinking quickly, rubbing my eyes, panicking she may have just blinded me. "Calm down! It takes a moment to work!" And I'm about to for what, when it does work. I stop blinking madly and see that my vision is no longer a blur. It's even better than having my glasses on. I look to her, and she's smirking. "I know what I'm doing here. I've been with this district for many years," Really? She doesn't look old enough to say that, "And I've let them wear glasses in. Most of then were sticks with stringy hair and ghastly pale skin. You're the first in a while that looks decent."

"Thank you?"

"Yes, it's a compliment." Then she smiles grimly, "I'm so glad I can finally try out this new idea of mine. You have the body to fill it out." And she whips away my towel so I'm totally exposed. I try to cover my body and snatching at the towel again, but she tosses it into the bathtub. "If you hurry up and follow me you won't be naked much longer," she muses while walking out.

I walk out with her, trying to cover my front and rear with my arms, but can never get them entirely covered. As soon as I'm in the room she strolled into, I'm getting things thrown at me. They drop to the ground and I take a look at what they are: a bra and panties. I snatch them up and put them on. They're both nude colored matching my skin exactly, and the bra is strapless, but its better than nothing. I look around for my stylist and she's sitting in a lounge chair with her feet up, hands behind her head. "Shouldn't you be getting me ready for the opening ceremony?" I ask.

"Yeah," she replies coolly, not getting up.

"Why aren't you?" She's really starting to bug me.

"I'm waiting for them to bring in the parts for your costume."

"The parts? For my costume? What exactly am I suppose to be wearing that requires _parts_? Don't tributes usually wear a costume that looks like a fancy factory product or something?" I'm not trying to insult her because the costumes she's made aren't as bad as say, District Twelve, who wear plain jumpsuits with coat dust on them. She stands up as I hear a bustle at the door. Her team is carrying in a large box. Anara walks to where they set it down and opens it up. Then she sticks her hand in and pulls out a length of wire. An extension cord. She bends and snaps it in. "This is it."

I gulp. "How is that long pile of wire going to be a costume."

She shrugs nonchalantly, "If I make it into a dress."

"How?"

"By wrapping it around your body."

"And how exactly do you do ithat/i?"

"Stop asking question and get in front of that mirror." Still confused, I go to stand by a floor length mirror. "Not facing it! Turn away! You're not allowed to see it until I'm done!" I jump to turn around. "Better." She drags over the box, "This is going to take a while."

And a while it does take. I'm standing there for hours while Anara, Vera, Rosa and Azul coil me into my ensemble. They start out kind of loose on the top of my torso, giving me space to breathe, or maybe to accentuate my assets, but as soon as they're done with that, they tug on the cord nagging me to suck it in. Once my midsection is bound comes the the hardest part. They loosen the cord's grip on me, trying to make it flow out like a dress by making each wrap a little larger than the last. To make this happen, they have to weave several other shorter wires into the main frame to hold it together. The shorter wires are in an assortment of colors and we have to stop after every circuit around me.

When it's finally done, the dress only goes to my knees. But when I try to turn around, I get snapped at that they're not done. So I groan and get yanked back into a separate room with a vanity, but the mirror is covered. They slap make up on me, put product in my hair leaving it loose, and stick me in black boots and gloves that reach my elbows. When that's over with, I'm allowed to see myself.

Anara covers my eyes and pulls me somewhere then counts, "One... two... three!" It takes a second for my eyes to accept that the image I see is really me... only a different me. Almost a... sexy me? Me? Sexy? That was hard to imagine before this. But here I am, looking like this. Not much of my skin is exposed, but the idea that only a mere wire separates me from being covered to being stark naked sends a strange feeling through me. My eyes have a smokey affect and the sparse blue wires make my eyes pop. The fit shows off curves I never knew I could flaunt. "I've been dying to do this to some girl for years. And now that I've done it, it's a masterpiece!" Surprisingly, she hugs me, "Thanks for making my vision come true!"

I pat her back awkwardly. "No problem?"

"This is really a dream come true, Olevia. You have no idea." She drops her arms and steps back looking me over again. "You really do look good." She sits in her hip and smirks, "Damn, I'm good." I try not to roll my eyes. I should't really insult my stylist. Who knows the ramifications of someone whose dressing me for the show before my death.

I just wish we'd leave already.

Because that is when the Games really begin. The Games don't start when you're in the arena. Your fight for your life starts the moment you're reaped. But the true challenge is winning over the audience. Having the audience on your side can be the most powerful weapon in there. A responsive audience means sponsors which translates to money for gifts in the arena.

But why should I care? I know I'm dead the first day in. So who cares that the people don't like me?


	3. Chapter 3

My makeover team and I meet up with Phillip's at the bottom of the Remake Center. While he doesn't seem to like his outfit, I do. I had temporarily forgotten tributes don't always dress complimentary to their partners. His costume definitely doesn't do anything for mine. He looks like some high tech robot, but notin a cheesy way. He grimaces at me, and I smile wryly as we're lead to our chariot. Anara and his stylist, Indigo, bark orders on how to act out there then leave us to take their places to watch their handiwork.

"Do you really think Celera will find me respectable in _this_ thing?" I try to mask my giggle, but fail miserably. "Hey! At least you have something interesting on. I feel ridiculous. Well, not as ridiculous as Twelve must feel." He points over to their tributes who I think are naked and covered in dust. Poor things. "But I'm still pretty bad."

I try to reassure him. "You look fine. At least you don't have to worry about a wardrobe malfunction. Or that's what it will look like if this comes undone out there since my undergarments match my skin perfectly." The music starts and a set of giant doors slide open. The District One tributes, looking jaw dropping in bejeweled garb, are the first out. Phillip holds out a hand to help me up into the chariot, and I pull him up and put on a fake smile, "Get ready to smile until it hurts, my friend."

"Looking forward to it," he retorts, putting on a grin of his own. And we both start laughing again.

Our chariotis pulled out in the middle of our laughter so the first image of us is us trying to calm the other down. But once we're poised, I don't remember anything our stylists said to do. We wave to the audience and I wing it, trying to show off my dress. I think I hear people shout that they want one just like it. For fun, I even try to show off Phillip's outfit, pointing to him and nodding. We laugh more, and he tries doing the same for me. He even takes my hand and spins me. The crowd loved that bit, chanting 'District Three' for a few minutes. We wave in the direction of the chanting in thanks.

But pretty soon the music ends and the President has to make a speech. While he speaks, the cameras are suppose to cut away from him regularly to focus on the tributes. It's no shocker that District One gets more than most of us. They look stunning in their sparkley garments. The light hits them just right and the jewels glisten. I'm _almost_ jealous. But not quite. When my fellow tribute and I have camera time, we look respectable. Standing straight and tall. I look at the screen to find the camera angle, find the camera then wink. That's for everyone back home. They'll know that. I know they will.

The President finishes his monotonous speech and the chariots make another lap around the City Circle. This time around, people are throwing things. Confetti, stuffed animals, flowers. Phillip ends up catching a rose and turns to me and over zealously presents it to me. I accept it, giggling at the show he's putting on and feign shyness. I hadn't noticed we were on camera for that at first. But taking advantage of the spotlight, I again try to show off Phillip. I gesture to him grandly and he does it for me again, twirling me, pointing to me, presenting me with flower after flower until we're behind shut doors.

With haste, we take an elevator to our floor, the third one of course, and are allowed to switch into some more comfortable clothes. My little team has to come with me to help out with unwrapping my body. It takes a while. But then I take a dip in my huge bathtub. I soak in a mountain of bubbles for some unknown time, until I'm wrinkly and put on cut off shorts and a tank top.

I take the time to walk around the room and see that everything's even bigger and more plush than my chambers on the train. They really do send off the dead in style. A really tasteful and crazy expensive style, but a good style nonetheless. I leap into the bed and close my eyes, ready for sleep when there's a knock. I drag my feet to answer the door. It's Dimitria. I thought her services were over once we reached the Capitol.

"Supper time, Miss Planar. Supper time!"

And we go to find Phillip and we head for the dining room. Our prep teams are here, as well as our mentors, Beetee and Wiress, and as we sit down, there is a small applause.

"Well done, well done, you two!" trills someone from his prep team.

"Bri-brilliant," stammers Wiress.

"Marvelous, Olevia and Phillip," agrees Beetee, patting us both on the back.

Phillip and I hear praise for the day's events during the entire meal. But I'm personally too distracted by the dishes to care. But what's more distracting than that is the servants bringing in all of the food. I always give them a polite smile in thanks, but I think it panics them when I do that. I want to ask if there's something I did that offends them, but I'm afraid to ask. So I give up trying to be polite to them and enjoy the food. The delicious, appetizing, mouthwatering food.

"You _need_ to try this," Phillip suddenly exclaims when the desserts are brought out. He takes my spoon and scoops up some whatever he was eating and holds it out to me. I inspect the scoop before daring to open my mouth. I know he's eating some treat that's kept cold. It's vanilla flavored I think they said. But there are bits of dough in it. Cookie dough. And a frothy white cream is built up on top with a single red cherry. "It's so good! Try it, try it!"

I shrug, then open my mouth. When the chilly dessert touches my tongue, my mouth instantly waters. My eyes grow wide, and I look at him in amazement. I cover my mouth to say, "It's _so_ good!" But I accidentally spit out a bit of the froth into my hand. Once again, we crack up laughing.

"I know! I told you!"

I ask for a bowl of whatever he's having and I eat my fill. By the time the bowl is empty, I'm past full and it's time to go into a different room. Phillip and I sit on the ground, legs crossed and I suddenly feel like a child. I feel like I'm back home sitting next to my brother.

We get to watch today's ceremony on the television. All of us laugh at us first entering the Circle. I thought it would make us look a disgrace to our district, but it has the the opposite effect. But what's even better than that moment is when we're playing around in the middle of the ride. Most of the other tributes around us look straight ahead to act all serious and tough, but then there's us, laughing and and seemingly enjoying this. It looks almost endearing. While we're not nearly as attractive as the Districts immediately before or after us, one can't help but look at the two people dancing around in their chariot. It's not something you see too often.

"Hah, what was that?" Phillip accuses after seeing my wink during the President's speech.

I blush. "It was for my family and friends back home," I admit shyly.

"And Dell?" he teases.

I nod, blushing even more. "Mhmm."

"Don't feel embarrassed. Check this out," And he points back to the screen. Sometime after my wink, he subtly taps his nose." You saw that? That's a signal Celera and I came up with. Long before we thought this could happen, but it's our thing, you know? It's our way of silently saying I love you."

That's... cute. And I meant it. "So are you going to be running around the arena tapping your nose for her?" He playfully shoves me, and I shove back, and it's like I'm playing with Chip or Luce back home. The adults shush us as we make our final lap and I see us playing around again. I tease him more when he gives me the flowers, but he has a comeback on the way I pretend to be flattered. It's so obvious the crowd loved us for our show. When the show is over, the room is buzzing.

"I thought you two had never met until today?" asks Dimitria.

"That's correct."

"But you two looked- even in front so us you look so... _close_." Why'd she say it like that? _Close_. But then it dawns on me. I gasp and blush, sending mental apologies to Dell all the way back to District Three. Guilt builds up inside me. I'm a horrible, _horrible _fiancee! She reads my expression quickly, and tries to correct herself, "Oh, not like that! Like you're old friends. Your interactions were just so genuine. You seem more like brother and sister than... a couple." I look up at her, hoping she isn't patronizing me. I hope that's what Dell got while watching me. I turn to my new friend and he looks just as guilty. "So is that your strategy for now? Act as friends? Be allies in the arena?" She looks to our mentors.

"I think that _would_ be best to stick with your own district..." Wiress trails off.

"As an ally, she means," Beetee finishes, "You'll be able to trust one another better for a much longer time than someone you don't know. I like that strategy. But between now and the Games, today was the only time you could do that on camera. Training sessions aren't allowed to be recorded." He pauses then adds, "But I don't think you should stick together in training tomorrow. You'll be able to cover more ground separately. I want both of you to try as much as possible then find what you do best and work that the next two days."

"Do either of you have special skills?" Wiress asks, back in the conversation.

I shake my head, "Nope. I've got _nothing_. My IQ won't do me any good in the arena. I feel so deceived that the so-called special for us 'geniuses' doesn't help me at all."

"I'm the same, except for the special school thing," interjects Phillip. "We don't exactly learn survival skills in a place like our District." Our district is considered one of the weaker ones. Our industry doesn't require much manual labor like some of the others... And we're not cheaters.

Beetee sighs exasperatedly, rubbing his forehead, "I know. Just make sure to... try everything, I guess. You never know if you're good at something. And you might find you have a hidden talent." And sadly, that's the best advice he can give us. And I don't blame him for that. It's the industry our District has. We have factories and create electronics. Weapons we might develop never appear in the arena, not to aid us anyway.

We're dismissed after more chat about the morning and go to our rooms for a night's rest. I take another shower, knowing its a waste of water, but it feels so good to soak in the scented soaps. I nearly would have fallen asleep if I didn't have an unexpected guest visit me.

"Olevia?" And there's my fellow tribute peeking through my bathrrom door.

"Phillip?" I duck under the water, horrified he may have seen me, but I come back up thinking he might come over, "What are you doing just barging in? There's this thing, almost like common courtesy, called _knocking_! Ever heard of it?"

"Sorry, sorry! I just wanted to- uh, nevermind!" And he leaves the room.

Muttering to myself, cursing him, I drain the bathtub and climb out. I wrap a towel around myself and stick my head out of the bathroom to check he didn't just stay in my room. Thankfully he didn't. I get back into the shorts and tank top I had on before the unnecessary bath and flop onto the bed. But then I snap up. He probably came to talk about what was bothering him earlier. I did tell him we'd talk later and now is later. So I push off the bed and go down the hall to where I recall his room resides.

I knock to make a point and he says to come in. I enter then pretend to rub my knuckles and wince in pain. He panics. "Ugh, my hand is _killing_ me. Maybe I shouldn't have knocked," and I give him a hard look. He glares back, understanding my point and goes to sit on his bed.

"Can we just forget that ever happened? I didn't... see anything." He blushes, making me blush. "I don't know why I just came in. Obviously I know how to knock, I just-"

I walk to his bed and sit next to him, "It's fine." I reach for his hand and pat it, "Just... don't let it happen again. If it does, I will _kill _you." The last words slipped out by accident. But the second I realize it, it's too late. I slap my hands over my mouth, stand up and pace. "I didn't mean it. It's just an expression. I said it all the time to my brother when he pulled stuff like that. It just came out!"

"Calm down, Olevia. I've said it before too. It's not a big deal."

"Liv," I correct.

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows, clearly confused.

"It's Liv. I have my friends call me Liv."

"So, we're friends?"

"You are most certainly not my boyfriend," I say, trying to joke around. Trying to be serious, I walk around to the other side of his bed and just flop back so half my legs hang off. "Yes, we're friends. After what we've been through in such a short amount of time, and what we _will_ be going through in a few short days, we'll be close friends."

Phillip lays so the tops of our heads touch. He sighs, "We're friends til... the end." We both breath a weak laugh. "I don't want to die, Liv." We laugh a little harder at the use of my name in that sentence. "No, but seriously, I'm scared. Not only of _what _kills me, but..." He trails off.

"But what?"

"Do you ever think about after death?" I don't respond immediately. "Do you think there's something on the other side? Is it just like you're sleeping and you're stuck in a permanent dream. Is there really a place for the 'good' people, and what determines that you're good? Or is it just nothingness? Darkness?" His voice cracks, "I'm really scared, Liv. I don't want to die. Not yet. I'm only sixteen. I haven't lived yet." I sit up and see tears trickling down his cheeks. It breaks my heart. He looks up at me, waiting for an answer, but I don't have one. I'm just as scared as he is. And I don't want to die either. I have to do something to comfort him though. I wipe away some tears and sit behind him so I can place his head in my lap. I stroke his hair. Phillip continues, "There's so much stuff I've never done and will never get to do now. I can't marry or have kids, or at least have the option. I can't finish school. I'll never be with a girl," But then his eyes grow wide and he sits up too, shaking his head in jerky movements. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm not trying to imply you and me..."

I blush again, "That didn't even cross my mind. I know you care for Celera. You love her, right?"

His mouth tugs into a small smile and he's staring right through me, "Yeah." He refocuses, "Liv?" I raise my eyebrows. "Is it selfish of me to wish she wouldn't get over me? I want her to always love me. I didn't tell her that, I told her to move on, but I want her to always remember me. Is it wrong for me to want that?"

"I think you deserve some selfish thoughts in the position you're in." I stare hard into his turquoise eyes, "But you were being self_less_ by telling her to move on. There's nothing wrong with that. And I'm sure she will always remember you."

"And I'm sure Dell will never forget you either," he adds. At that, my eyes begin to water. "Hey, Liv?" I blink away some moisture and bite my lip, fighting back a sob. "I think we _should_ try. For them. For Celera and Dell. And our friends and family. At least past the first day."

"You mean we should try and win?"

He shakes his head, "No, no, I didn't say that. I say we should try to make it past the first day. That's when the real blood bath is. If we can make it past that, then we stand a better chance than we think we have. The weakest always die the first day."

I wipe my eyes with my shirt, and try to control my breathing. He holds out his hand like we need to make this deal official, but I make a suggestion first, "I say if we survive the initial blood bath..." I tap my chin, trying to think reasonably, "Our next goal is top eight. That's... _respectable_, right?" He nods, and jiggles his hand. I take it. "So we're really doing this?"He nods again. "For them? For Dell and Celera?"

"For them," he repeats, giving our hands a firm shake. "Because we love them."


	4. Chapter 4

Not long after our deal is made, I return to my room to try to catch some _Z_'s. But I find myself unable to sleep. Those questions he asked me are stuck in my head: _Do you ever think about after death? Do you think there's something on the other side? Is it just like you're sleeping and you're stuck in a permanent dream. Is there really a place for the 'good' people, and what determines that you're good? Or is it just nothingness? Darkness?_ They're accompanied by questions of my own and I fight back the urge to run back to his room and ask them.

I curl up in a little ball and consider my answers. Not that I plan on going up to Phillip to tell him my thought on this, but this is for my own benefit. Yet, I can't answer them. I don't know what I think happens when you die. All I know is that I don't want to die and I'm scared. Horrified.

Something else I know is that what's happening to every child in this building is unjust.

What did we ever directly do to the Capitol and it's people? Besides provide them with their lifestyle? We make everything they use, eat, drink, and everything else! And what do we get in thanks? We get our children thrown into an arena with weapons and muttations and told to fight one another for no other reason than to survive. And for what? Because a handful of generations ago, the people of the Districts didn't want to be treated like dirt? Sorry for wanting some appreciation! And because of them, an entire people is killed off. District Thirteen: gone. Blown up. No longer exists. The Capitol people are cruel. And not even all of them. Just it's leaders.

"I'm going to die in a week," I say blankly.

I just made a deal with Phillip and I didn't mean a word of it. I know I won't live past the first day. I'll try as I said I would, but let's face it, I don't have the skills to survive in the wilderness. I don't have the skills to survive in the wilderness with twenty-plus other people trying to kill you so they can survive. If I even make it more than ten minutes I'll be surprised. After exactly ten minutes, I would be a disgrace to all of my friends and family. I'll be speared in the gut before I can even reach the Cornicopia. Abruptly my stomach twists and turns into a million knots. I writhe on my bed, holding my middle, trying to calm my stomach down, but nothing works. And on top of this, I start crying again.

"I don't want to die," I cough. I turn so I can muffle my words with a pillow. "I don't deserve to die, do I? Did I ever do something wrong? Was this for bad mouthing the Capitol? Was it irony that sent me here?"

I sit up with my pillow and let out one long shrill scream. When I'm done, I chuck the pillow at table holding a vase. As desired, the vase falls and shatters, but it does not satisfy me. So manicly, I curl my fingers into fists and flex them repeatedly. I drag my hands over my face, smearing my face with salty tears. Running my hands through my hair, I start tugging, attempting to pull it out, but the pain doesn't help. So I give up and wrap my arms around my legs and rock back and forth, bawling.

I'm rocking with sobs, barely comprehensible, "I wish- I wish there were no such thing as the Hunger Games! I wish there was no Rea-reaping! I wish I wasn't on my way to d-die! I don't want to die! I want to go home! Let this be some huge mistake! If-if this was a mistake, I'll never complain about my life ever, ever again! Not a peep! I swear! Just somebody save me from this! I'll do anything! Anything to see Mom, Dad, Luce, Chip and Dell!" But then I catch my selfishness, "And Phllip! Let our whole Reaping be a mistake. Dimitria pulled out the wrong names! Just not us, or our family and friends! Please, I beg anyone who can hear me!" And I sob into my knees.

It's not until its past midnight that I finally stop. But even then, the knots in my gut torture me. I know it's my nerves and my terror. I only ever get this feeling when I'm truly scared. Like when the Peacekeepers start barging into people's homes for no real reason than to scare us. Or when the lights went out during the winter last year. Or whenever I've had nightmares that I was reaped.

I'm lying in my bed listening to the absolute silence that's fallen over my room. There's a ringing in my ear that fills this silence I get this odd feeling of vertigo because my head's hanging off the edge of the bed.

A knock makes me jump and consequently fall off my bed. Should I ignore the door or not, but its probably the poor maid sent to pick up the shattered vase. So I saunter to my door and open it, but am surprised to see my friend. He looks like he'd been going through I just had.

"I can't sleep, Liv," he says, his voice cracking. Phillip looks at his feet, "I can't shut my mind up, so I can't sleep. All I can do is close my eyes and see images of the repeats they showed from the last Games. Except-" His voice catches, so he tries to clear his throat, "Except each death is my own." He looks up again and his eyes dart around the room, "Why is there broken glass and water on the floor?"

Flatly, I reply, "I figured since they're going to send me off to my death, the least I could do is break something of theirs. It use to be a pretty vase. Now... not so much."

The right corner of his mouth turns up, brightening his entire face. He snorts, "Way to stick to the man, Liv. Fight the power one vase at a time." I can't help but give a coughing laugh at the ludicrous things that came out of his mouth. "Apparently people use to say things like that."

"Were they on morphling at the time?"

"I don't think so. This is from long before the big disaster that flooded half the original continent."

"Strange people."

"Tell me about it."

And we stand quietly at my door for a minute or so, waiting for the other to say something first. Since he came here, I knew I had to. "You can't sleep, right?" He nods. I point to myself, "Me neither. Why don't we _not_ sleep _together_?" Even as I said that last sentence, I knew by the end of it we'd both be snickering. And we are.

Phillip adds, "I think Celera and Dell would approve of _that_, don't you?"

"Oh, I do. Come join me, _friend_." I take his hand and give him a cheeky wink, then pull him in. I lead him to my bed. And we sit down next to each other, still holding hands. "So, _friend_, what do you want to do?"

"Sleep," he answers dryly.

"You wouldn't be in here if you could do that," I retort. "Why don't we talk?"

"About what exactly?"

"Ourselves. You're currently my best friend- my friend til the end- and I know nothing about you. So speak. I want to know every grueling detail of your sixteen years of life. Tell me about the way your family is, your group of friends, school, everything."

He looks at me doubtfully, "Really?"

I pat his hand in mine with my free hand, "Oh yes. Start anywhere you'd like. I'm hear to listen."

"Okay then. Let's see then."

He looks up, scratching his chin. He nods to himself, sucks in a breath and begins sharing his life with me. Phillip goes into detail about his family. Phillip's the middle child of five kids. He has one older sister, one younger, one older brother and one younger. His family works in the factories, like mine. And they all have the same red hair, except his mother and older brother of one year whose hair is reddish brown. They all have the same turquoise eyes, except his father and his younger siblings who have brown eyes. After an hour, Phillip's yawning between every sentence. His eyes begin to droop and his head lulls in my direction. In the middle of his monologue, he just completely shuts off, and he's leaning against me, sleeping.

"Mission," I breathe, then yawn, "Accomplished." I pry my hand from his, rub his back really quickly, and kiss the top of his head. "Goodnight Phllip, best friend of mine." I lay him gently back, then slide his legs up on the bed. I tuck him in, laying a pillow under his head, and smile at the serenity so evident on his face. No more images of death as far as I can see. I grab one of the pillows and one of the thin sheets, and get into a comfortable position on a cushy chair. Then I close my eyes for the night and drift off to sleep.

I'm rolling around later this morning as I see the sun peek through my eyelids. I rub my eyes then look at the time. Barely eight. What time is training? I can't recall. So I reluctantly stretch out my limbs, and as I'm trying to convince myself to get up, Phillip is starting to wake up. He moans and groans, then props himself up on his elbows, looking around. Then he catches me on the chair.

"You didn't sleep there, did you?"

"It's nothing. I didn't sleep on the floor."

"This is your bed, your _huge _bed. There's more than enough room." He gestures the the large amount of space left unoccupied. "You could've slept up here."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time, Dex." I stand up, "Just go back to your room and get ready. We have training today and if we really plan on making it past one day, then we'll need as much training as possible."

"That's for sure." He slides off then yawns, covering his mouth. "See you at breakfast, Planar." And he walks out of my room.

This morning, I take shower, which really woke me up when I'm hit with cold water when I intended on warm. I start pushing buttons haphazardly to stop the torture, and finally settle on lukewarm and wash my already clean hair. I use this tropical scented stuff to lather in my hair, and a some soap that has lotion it it to rub down my body. I step out of my shower, wrap myself in a towel and walk back to my room to find something to wear, but see a closet I didn't know about open with clothes on a hangers. I slide it all on and look in a mirror. Form-fitting black pants, a light blue tunic that reaches my elbows, and sturdy boots.

Phillip beat me to the dining room and is already guzzling down food. I join him, eating as much of the rich food as possible. Eventually our mentors come along. They eat in silence as my friend and I tell each other lame jokes, but still laugh hysterically because they're so bad. Dimitria is the last to come in, and she sits at the head of the table, eating in her dignified Capitol way. While she eats though, I catch her cocking an eyebrow at us laughing. After one good round of laughter, some tears come out, she slams her hands on the table. Everyone in the room, including servants stare at her.

"Why are you two joking around? I've never seen a pair like you! You're making jokes, terrible one's, and laughing everytime I see you! I admire your optimism, but you don't seem to be taking this seriously at all! It's- it's unnerving! Aren't you worried at all?" It doesn't help that Phillip and I, yet again, laugh until we produce tears. She throws her hands in the air and slouches in her chair.

I contain the laughter first, so I speak, "Dimitria, I'm sorry if we seem... disrespectful. But you have to see this from our perspective."

"I think I've seen enough of you kids to know what you're going through."

This strikes the wrong nerve, "Oh really, Miss Lee? So you think merely watching us go in and die is enough to empathize with us? So you know how it feels to be taken away from your family, friends, and the person you love most in all of Panem to fight to the death with twenty-three other kids in the same position? You've been forced into some arena knowing you're probably going to die?" I wait for a response, but she doesn't have one, "I was crying for hours last night. Begging some higher power to save me. I screamed into a pillow- broke a vase, I felt like I might vomit, and I couldn't sleep because I was so far beyond worried. And Phillip couldn't sleep either. Do you know why? Because all he saw when he closed his eyes was his death. He came to my room and I had to get him to talking nonstop to keep him from thinking about the atrocity we're getting into in less than a week so he could fall asleep.

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I know I'm not going to live! It's not being pessimistic. It's the truth. So, yes, I'm not taking this too seriously. I'm trying to enjoy what little life I have left with someone who actually knows what I'm going through, thank you very much." And I sit back down and begin eating. I turn to Phillip, "Can you pass the syrup?" But he's stunned. I reach for it myself and pour it onto my waffles. The only noise in the room is my fork clinking against my plate for some time. I eat until I'm full and still, no one else has spoken. I begin to think I may have stepped over the line. So I should probably apologize. I stand up, "I'm sorry, Dimitria. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I was-"

"_I'm_ sorry, Olevia." She gets up and walks over to my side. "I'm use to the kids that come through here sulking the whole time. It's all I've ever known. So I don't know how to react to such... liveliness." Unexpectedly, she hugs me. "Thank you for... putting me in my place." She pulls away and looks me in the eyes. I notice for the first time she has hazel eyes. The green tint of her hair really does bring out the specks of green in them. "With an attitude like that, there's no way you won't make it past the first day." She places a hand on Phillip, "Both of you."

He shrugs, "To tell you guys the truth, we agreed to survive the at least day one. After that, top eight. If I can make it to the top eight and have my family interviewed, I can die... not happy, but maybe somewhat accomplished." Dimitria nods in agreement, and turns to Beetee and Wiress for approval, who also agree.

We're reminded of our strategy in training for the next three days: trying everything then pickin your strength and fine tuning it. Also, we're not to stay attached at the hip. We need to spread out and cover more ground. Then just before ten, we make our way to the elevator. I expected us to get off on the ground floor then leave for the training area, but turns out its below this building. It seems there are floors under ground.

When we're let off, only half of the tributes have arrived and I already feel intimidated. I look around as someone pins a cloth square with the number _3_ to my back. The cheating districts are all here, standing around tall and confident, probably trying to look menacing. I feel nauseous. A circle starts to form as more tributes show up. When everyone has arrived, the head trainer, Atala, begins to explain how things work here and then reads a list of all of the stations. I make note of the ones I might want to try first.

Atala finishes and allows us to disperse, but I accidentally bump into one girl from District Four. I try to apologize immediately, but she scowls me. "Watch it!" she snaps.

I'm stunned and taken aback. She walks off, right over to the station with spears and looks over at me again. She drags her index finger across her throat, then throws the spear at a dummy, hitting it directly in the heart. She looks at me again, raising an eyebrow cockily. I gulp.

Looks like I found a new friend to lookout for in the arena.


End file.
